


Juxtaposition

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Enjolras was not unwilling. He merely thought he should be, and the day Grantaire finally understood the distinction had been the happiest of his life."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Juxtaposition

“In my opinion,” Enjolras said, his voice as earnest as ever, “a fair and empathetic society should examine motivation before condemning those who sin.” 

“Is that so?” Grantaire smiled into his bottle. The slightest hint of inebriation slurred Enjolras' words, a rare occurrence that was at once endearing and amusing. Whether he was drunk, sober or in-between, Enjolras never needed encouragement to keep talking. Nevertheless, Grantaire said, “Tell me more,” and took another drink. 

“Hunger, for example. No one who has ever been poor could seek to punish a man who steals food for his starving family.”

Plenty of people, poor and otherwise, could and did seek just that. That Enjolras could be ignorant of such a thing, unwilling to believe these petty injustices existed not just at the heart of the hated oligarchy but within all mankind, was typical of the naivete behind the revolutionary facade. It touched Grantaire at the same time it stirred him on. It made him desperate to find some way, any way, in which he could protect Enjolras and his innocence from the rude awakening they were destined one day to face. 

But Grantaire did not wallow in emotion. The night was late, so late that it was nearly early again. He and Enjolras were alone, or almost. Those of their friends that had not left the Musain hours earlier had passed out where they sat, heads lolling on folded arms atop the tables. Joly and Bossuet lay snoring in a corner, entwined in one another's arms as if they had forgotten Musichetta was not between them. Even the barmaid had disappeared into some back room, although Grantaire had no doubt she would reappear quickly enough if he attempted to help himself to another bottle. 

“Love,” Enjolras said suddenly, and if there was a surer way of capturing his attention, Grantaire didn't know what it might be. Enjolras evaded his gaze, fixing instead on some point on the far wall. Still, he did not stop speaking. “We are told it is a sin for a man to covet his neighbour's wife, but what if the covetousness is born from pure love rather than base lust?” 

Grantaire nodded. It was a golden opportunity, far too precious to waste. He set down his bottle. “I agree. And if you would permit me to expound upon your theory? What if said man covets his neighbour's wife from afar, gazing on her with glassy-eyed adoration but never daring to express himself?” It was a scenario with which Grantaire was intimately familiar. “How can we call that a sin, if it brings joy to the man and does no harm to the woman?” 

Grantaire paused, but not long enough for Enjolras to reply. He knew from experience it would be a mistake to allow Enjolras to descend too far into introspection at a time like this. If Grantaire played his cards right, Enjolras could be very willing, even eager, to give him everything he'd ever dreamed of and much more besides. Play them wrong, and Grantaire would instead be treated to a fervently apologetic speech about Patria and the need to maintain unwavering-by which Enjolras meant “celibate”-focus for the good of the people. 

“If I may take your hypothesis one step further?” Grantaire stood and went around the table, steadying himself on the back of a chair when that proved a more daunting task than originally thought. “What if the man works up all his courage and greets his ladylove with a kiss? A simple, chaste kiss, the sort of thing you or I might bestow upon a friend or family member?” Grantaire bent down and rested his lips against Enjolras' unshaven cheek. Instinct commanded him to bury his hands in Enjolras' hair and plunder his mouth like a pirate, but Grantaire dug his nails into the palm of his hand and resisted. That was not the way to reach his goal. Gentleness was the key, at least at this stage of the game, and it had the compensatory effect of making Enjolras' voice a shade unsteady when he replied, “It is a chaste gesture, as you say. Not the stuff of sin.”

“Indeed. And what if our man, emboldened by a lack of protest, grows audacious enough to overstep the boundary?” He climbed onto Enjolras' lap, straddling his thighs. The chair creaked, but remained in one piece. Grantaire lowered his mouth to Enjolras', carefully, gently. He allowed his tongue to wet both of their lips simultaneously before he slid it inside. Enjolras hesitated, but only for a moment. Then, he was playing along, his silver tongue giving another impassioned, but for once wordless, speech against Grantaire's.

When Grantaire pulled back, he felt dizzy and out of breath. It was too soon for that. He closed his eyes and tried to regain some semblance of control as Enjolras said, “It would be ungentlemanly in the extreme to impose such a kiss against a lady's will.” 

Grantaire laughed and opened his eyes again. Enjolras was not a lady, and he was not unwilling. He merely thought he should be, and the day Grantaire finally understood the distinction had been the happiest of his life. “What if she is willing?” 

Grantaire stood up, only to fall immediately to his knees at Enjolras' feet. He was no supplicant, he was never penitent, but this position felt natural. He put his hands on his beloved's legs, feeling the warmth of his skin seep through Enjolras' trousers.

Enjolras kept talking, a fighter to the end. “She is still a married woman. It is difficult even for me to make a case in favour of adultery.” 

“What if she wasn't married?” They were straying from their premise, and Grantaire couldn't care less. He slid his hands up Enjolras' thighs, caressing the tight muscles but avoiding the obvious and burgeoning hardness between them.

“Then he is proposing she throw away her virginity for nothing. Again, hardly the action of a gentleman.” 

“Just as well I'm not one.” He looked up at Enjolras, who glanced down at him. This was the moment of truth. Enjolras was aroused, but he was quite capable of ignoring that and putting a stop to this, leaving Grantaire to his own devices with an apology that managed to be both meaningless and verbose. Grantaire waited. Enjolras swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

“Just as well,” he said, after what seemed an interminable silence, “that I'm not a virgin, either.” 

Grantaire laughed. He couldn't help himself. It was as close as he would ever get to hearing the words, “Take me now,” out of Enjolras' beautiful, clever mouth. 

He reached for Enjolras' belt. It had grown more complicated, somehow, in the days since it had last been in Grantaire's hands. After a moment's fumbling, Enjolras pushed him away. He stood, unbuckling his own belt and lowering his trousers in one fluid motion, then sat again, leaving Grantaire face-to-face with the most beautiful cock he'd ever had the pleasure to suck.

There had been other men, before. Grantaire was never one to restrain his desires; there was no reason to, since he didn't believe in Heaven or Hell or marriage. None of the men had meant anything, and all of them had faded from existence the moment Enjolras walked into his life. 

Grantaire put forth his best effort, kissing and licking with abandon, fondling Enjolras' balls with one hand and reaching down to discreetly stroke himself with the other. Enjolras squirmed in his chair and sighed, so quietly it was nearly inaudible. He was always quiet when they did this. Grantaire was torn between amazement at knowing Enjolras could, in fact, shut up and wanting to find something that would make him scream. Today was not the day to explore those avenues. When Enjolras' hands dug into Grantaire's hair, Grantaire knew he was close. He resisted Enjolras' attempts to push him away and instead clung to Enjolras' hips, breathing through his nose and swallowing hard when his lover came in a great, shaking wave. 

Afterward, he stayed where he was, his head resting on Enjolras' lap. When Grantaire finally stood, he bent over Enjolras and kissed him, his own excited cock jutting like a staff inside his trousers. 

Enjolras was at his most relaxed in these moments. He kissed Grantaire back, long and languorous, and pressed his hand gently against Grantaire's eager erection. It twitched in response. Enjolras smiled, rendering his face even more breathtaking than usual. “I love our theological discussions.”

Enjolras had many excellent qualities. Grantaire had never counted a sense of humour amongst them. He laughed, thrilled and surprised, and kissed Enjolras again, first on his mouth, then on his cheek and then on the edge of his ear. “I love you.”

It was not a revelation. Enjolras did not treat it as such. He sighed, though, and pushed Grantaire back far enough to look him in the eye. “I wish for your sake you did not.” So had Grantaire, once. Now, he wouldn't trade it for anything. 

“Come on.” Pushing his luck, Grantaire stood, pulling Enjolras with him. Enjolras let go of Grantaire's hand and fastened his belt while Grantaire reached for his bottle. He drained it, making sure to catch every last drop, then returned it to the table. 

“They will be embarrassed when they wake up, I think.” Enjolras, tidy once more, indicated Joly and Bossuet asleep in the corner. 

“Perhaps.” Or perhaps, Grantaire thought, they were not fooling themselves any more than they fooled anyone else. Grantaire didn't care. He wished them all the luck in the world, as long as he could keep just a little for himself and Enjolras. 

Grantaire put an arm around Enjolras, who immediately shrugged him off. He didn't take it personally. When he stepped outside into the cool early morning air, Enjolras followed, and when Grantaire looked at him and said, “I'd love to hear more of your thoughts about sin,” Enjolras smiled and blushed and didn't turn away.


End file.
